


In Vino Veritas

by WolffyLuna



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunken Confessions, M/M, Mid-Timeskip, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22700011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolffyLuna/pseuds/WolffyLuna
Summary: Caspar sat splay legged on the ground up against a wall, nursing a bottle of something bitter and red. “Why are we fighting?”“Because our Emperor declared war on everyone?" Linhardt offered.Caspar and Linhardt get drunk and talk.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 6
Kudos: 78
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	In Vino Veritas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nightmoonz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmoonz/gifts).



> I hope you like this!

Whoever last owned this cellar was really into wine. _Really_ into wine. Enough to fill a castle cellar with shelf after shelf of wine, with a little card table tucked into a corner to drink it at.

After the fight it took to take this castle—well, breaking into their wine reserves seemed only fair.

Caspar sat splay legged on the ground up against a wall, nursing a bottle of something bitter and red.

Linhardt stuck to the fruitier stuff. Still shockingly alcoholic, of course, especially if you were drinking it by the bottle. He’d be sleeping well tonight; that was something.

“Hey, Lin?”

Linhardt took another swig before answering. “Yes?”

“Why are we fighting?”

“Because our Emperor declared war on everyone? I’m surprised you’ve already forgotten--” he said sarcastically.

“No, no, I don’t mean _we_ —” he gestured with the bottle at the rest of the cellar, trying to encompass the concept of the army with just his arms “—I mean _us_. Like, why are you fighting? You don’t even like fighting.”

“Because Edelgard would kill me if I didn’t.”

Caspar raised an eyebrow. “Would she, though?”

She might not. She didn’t want anyone standing _against_ her, but he didn’t know if that applied to people not standing _behind_ her. “Do you want to find out?”

He turned back to his bottle. “Fair, fair.”

“Why are you fighting?” Linhardt thought he knew the answer, but the fact that Caspar was asking, and the way he sat on the floor like someone had removed half his bones and most of his willpower, made him wonder if he actually didn’t.

“I thought I wanted to.” He took another swig, making a face at the bitter of the tannins and the alcohol itself. “I like _fighting_ , but—” He emphasised it, trying to mash a combination of _glory_ and _honour_ and _skill_ and _bravery_ into one word, even when most would struggle fitting it into a human tongue.

“But you don’t like war,” Linhardt offered.

“Yeah. It’s a bit—there’s too many people. Too much chance for hurt. Like, if it was just me and Edelgard versus people like us, but it’s not.”

“Mhhm.”

He got a head of steam, and stood up on shaky legs to pace while he ranted. “Like, _you’re_ part of the war, too. And you’re only here because you might be _killed_ if you don’t.”

“That’s not entirely true.”

“…Huh?” He cocked his head, face scrunched up in confusion.

He ran his finger along the lip of the bottle. He had reasons he hadn’t said this before, but those reasons weren’t getting much of say now. It was soppy and embarrassing and he liked to at least pretend at dignity, and Caspar wasn’t much for it either— “You’re here. I follow you.” He paused. “—Otherwise you might get yourself killed,” he said, trying in vain to save face.

“You’re here because of me?”

“And also because Edelgard might kill me if I’m not, let’s not forget that.”

He threw his hands in the air, and started pacing again. “That’s even worse! You’re fighting because I am, and you don’t even want to!”

“It’s fine. Really.”

“No, it isn’t! You don’t want to fight.”

“I want to be with you more than I don’t want to fight,” Linhardt mumbled.

Caspar flopped back into a sitting position. “But you don’t want to fight.”

“I mean, if I have to, there are worse wars I could be fighting? At least this one is _for_ something.”

“…yeah.”

“It should probably happen. And the sooner we get it over with—”

Caspar jumped back up again, with surprising speed and coordination for someone that drunk, fist held against his chest. “I’ll get it over with so fast—faster than anyone thought it could be done—so you don’t have to fight! I promise!”

“That’s sweet of you.”

Capsar turned to him. “No, I really mean it!”

Linhardt shrugged. “I know.”

He seemed mollified, and took another swig, and with that pause, got a chance to think. “Wait, you said you’re here because of me.”

“Well done, you remembered a conversation. Congratulations.”

Caspar squinted at him, trying to read his face. “But you really hate fighting. Which must mean you really _like_ me.”

He took another sip. “Well, yes.”

“Like, like-like?”

Linhardt flushed. “Does it even matter?” he mumbled.

“ _YES!_ ” Caspar dramatically headbutted a wall. “I thought you were unatt—unattain—not _into that_ , so I’ve just been sitting here! Mooning over you! And you didn’t even notice! Which I took as a sign!”

Linhardt took a swig. “Well, turnabout’s fair play.”

“Hang on—you thought _I_ was ignoring _you_?”

“You thought I was going to the training grounds with you, commenting on your technique while staring at your deltoids _platonically_?”

“I mean—yes! Especially considering you seemed to think me retrieving you from the library before the professor blew a fuse was platonic.”

He bonked himself on the head with the bottle of wine. “…we’re idiots. Both of us.” Because it was the only explanation for both the complete lack of realisation or communication going on.

“You’re a smarter idiot than me.”

Linhardt wiggled his hand up and down. “Maybe.” He flopped over the card table. “Well, at least one good thing came out of the war. Forced us to get drunk and talk.”

“Yeah. And it gives us another reason to end the war soon: after the war ends, I’ll have time to properly court you.”

“Why? You don’t need to. Neither of us are the sort of person to stand for that sort of thing.”

Caspar clasped his hand to his chest, eyes sparkling. “It’s the spirit of thing!”

Linhardt covered his eyes with his arm. “Whatever. Provided I can put in no effort whatsoever to the courtship process.”

“I wouldn’t be courting you if I didn’t expect to be the one putting the effort in.”

“…fair.”


End file.
